Dying Light - Tennessee Gays Edition 1

Belmont University's library study room shudders with distant screams. Outside the secured entrance, Thomas Roberts pounds the glass, his violet eyes wide as Virals sprint between the buildings.

A Biter lurches across the courtyard, followed by another. The electronic lock flashes red, then yellow, while frightened students cluster behind Charlie and stare at the failing mechanism.

A Viral slams into the glass several yards behind Thomas, shrieking and clawing at the air. He flinches, glances over his shoulder, and pounds the door again.

Inside, someone whispers a prayer. The entrance alarm begins to chirp, and Thomas reaches the threshold as the infected spill into the library courtyard.

Charlie yanks the door open and pulls Thomas across the threshold. The Viral lunges after him, fingers scraping the glass as the lock snaps red.

Charlie grabs one end of the nearest bookcase while Thomas braces against the other. Together they drag it across the study room floor.

The bookcase catches on a floor vent. A shelf tears loose, sending heavy textbooks and a metal lamp crashing down, while the case twists sideways instead of sealing the entrance.

The Viral hammers the glass. The damaged bookcase blocks only part of the doorway, forcing the students back toward the interior tables as the alarm shrieks louder.

Charlie and Thomas wrench the crooked bookcase upright and shove it hard against the frame. Nearby students drag two heavy study tables behind it, sealing the entrance.

The Viral slams into the glass again. The reinforced barrier shudders but holds, while the alarm's shriek echoes through the library and draws answering cries outside.

A jagged shelf edge cuts Charlie's palm as he braces the bookcase. Blood beads across his skin, but the door remains firmly blocked.

Thomas grabs a fallen backpack and gestures toward the interior stacks. Behind the barricade, the students cluster together, breathing hard as the pounding continues.

Charlie pulls back from the barricade and raises one bloodied hand, motioning toward the shadowed stacks. He presses a finger to his lips.

Thomas understands first, waving the nearest students onward. They crouch and follow between the shelves, leaving the pounding door behind them.

The group settles behind the stacks, crouched among overturned chairs and scattered books. Charlie keeps the students close and out of sight from the entrance.

A student's dropped phone skitters across the floor during the retreat and chirps once before its owner snatches it silent. Outside, the pounding pauses.

For the moment, the stacks conceal everyone. Charlie's palm leaves a thin red smear on a shelf edge, and the alarm continues shrieking beyond the barricade.

Charlie whispers toward Thomas and points deeper into the stacks. The alarm masks the words, but every student nearby catches the urgency and stays low.

Thomas leads them through a narrow aisle to the interior hallway door. Its wired-glass window shows an empty corridor, though distant impacts echo beyond it.

Charlie and Thomas pull a pair of reading tables across the threshold, then wedge a toppled chair beneath the handle. The door is firmly blocked.

The students compress into the shadowed aisle. Beyond the first barricade, the entrance alarm abruptly cuts out, leaving only strained breathing and distant scraping.

Charlie breathes out slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders as he keeps his injured palm tucked close. The students remain silent around him.

Thomas opens the backpack with careful, quiet movements and removes gauze, antiseptic wipes, and tape. The zipper whispers loudly in the still aisle, drawing several nervous glances.

He cleans the cut, presses folded gauze over it, and wraps Charlie’s palm securely. The kit’s antiseptic packet is spent, but the bleeding stops.

Charlie scans the cramped aisle and quietly counts the nearby students. Shadows, overturned chairs, and bodies crouched close together make the number difficult to confirm.

He recognizes Thomas, the student clutching a silenced phone, and the student with the blue backpack. Several others remain unfamiliar, their faces turned toward the blocked doors.

Charlie’s count stalls at seven when two students overlap in the darkness. A nearby circulation desk offers a clearer option: its monitor still displays the library’s group study-room reservation list.

Charlie moves carefully to the circulation desk, keeping low behind the shelves. The monitor wakes with a dim glow, displaying the current group study-room reservation list.

One by one, the remaining students whisper their names: Priya Shah, Daniel Kim, Lauren Brooks, and Marcus Hill. Charlie compares them with the reservation list and confirms eight students besides himself and Thomas.

The names settle the confusion but not the danger. Charlie leaves the reservation screen open while the students draw closer, listening for movement beyond both barricaded doors.

The group settles deeper between the stacks. Thomas eases down beside Charlie, and the students stop shifting as the distant scraping fades beyond the barricaded doors.

Maya lowers the monitor brightness, but the screen still drains the library computer's aging battery. Its indicator drops from thirty-two percent to twenty-seven.

For one tense minute, everyone remains concealed and silent. Beyond the glass, something drags past the library entrance, pauses, then continues away without finding them.

Charlie silences his phone and gestures for the others to do the same. One by one, screens go dark until the stacks hold only breathing and distant building noises.

Maya keeps her voice barely above a breath. Beyond the hallway door, a faint impact travels through the frame, followed by silence.

Evan’s phone suddenly vibrates against the floor, its screen flashing a failed emergency notification before he clamps a hand over it. The brief buzz carries through the stacks.

The proposal gives the group a concrete destination. Maya checks the library map while Thomas studies the routes between the stacks and the nearest residence hall.

They ease the hallway barricade aside and file through. A table leg catches on the threshold, clattering against the floor and sending a sharp echo through the corridor.

The group reaches the dormitory through the service corridor. Thomas and the students drag couches, desks, and vending machines against the ground-floor entrances, then retreat upstairs with packed food and water. The barricades hold, but their remaining bottled water is reduced to a few crates, and faint movement begins below.

Charlie leads the group up to the third floor and unlocks the room. Everyone slips inside, listening as faint movement continues below the barricaded entrances.

He sweeps wrenches, sockets, and loose parts from his desk into a toolbox, then gathers Thomas's dirty boxer shorts from the floor and tosses them onto Thomas's bed.

As Charlie clears the last items, the overloaded toolbox catches on a cable. It tumbles from the desk, scattering metal tools across the floor with a sharp, ringing crash.

The sound travels through the dormitory. Movement below stops, then several heavy impacts strike the ground-floor barricades in quick succession.

Everyone freezes in the cramped room. Impacts thud below, then fade toward the far end of the dormitory. The barricaded staircase remains quiet.

Charlie grins, then crosses carefully toward the only window. He keeps his weight away from the scattered tools and reaches for the blinds.

The blinds close, followed by the heavy drapes, blocking the room from view. One plastic slat snaps with a sharp click, a small cost in the silence.

The last movement below passes without returning. Darkness settles across the room, leaving the group with blocked entrances, dwindling water, and a safer hiding place for the moment.

The question passes quietly through the dark room. One by one, the survivors check themselves, whispering about bruises, thirst, and fear while keeping clear of the scattered tools.

Priya, Daniel, Lauren, and Marcus each quietly confirm they are unhurt. Their voices steady as they hear one another, though everyone remains cramped and thirsty.

Secure the survivors' cooperation